It all has to start somewhere
by Domina01
Summary: It all has to start somewhere. For Draco and Ginny, it's with hot chocolate and silent company.


This is the two part prologue to Still Life, although I suppose that if you really, really dont want to read that, you dont have to. But you should, just like you should go to the review button at the bottom of the page and dun dun dun review!

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She watched.

Her eyes followed him from the moment he entered to the second he exited a room. It wasn't something she could help, it was just something that seemed so natural, so easy, that she didn't notice she was doing it until he actually ventured to look right back. He looked unnerved and slightly intrigued. She dropped her gaze first; thanking whatever God there was that she hadn't blushed. She didn't need to, the brief instant when their eyes had met, he had known. It bothered her, because she didn't. She kept coming back to him, finding him in the strangest moments. And she was afraid every time they were in room together, afraid that someone might notice the static in the air between them. She lay awake one night, silently contemplating what she knew about him when she heard a door open and close. She sat up, listening. There were none of the usual creeping steps, so she assumed it was him just because anyone else would have made a racket. She tiptoed out of the room she shared with the bushy haired best friend of her brother's and made her way quietly to the door. She paused there, the knob of the open door on her hands. There was no light from under his door, which meant that he had gone downstairs. As quietly as he had, she followed him down.

He sat, his head suspended in his hands, his elbows firmly on the table. One look at him and she knew he needed comfort. Instead of going to him, she made for the counter, making her steps loud so he could choose to leave. She made the milky concoction with her back to him the whole time. When she was done, she poured the hot, steaming liquid into two mugs and turned to find him studying her. She faltered slightly then, not sure how to approach him. But she was a Gryffindor after all, so she gathered her courage and placed a mug in front of him, sliding onto the chair opposite. She took a sip of her own warm drink and sighed, content. He was a bit more hesitant, sniffing what she offered. She rolled her eyes. He glared her way, his eyes never leaving hers as he put the cup to his lips and took a sip. The eyes that she had believed were a dull murky gray shone silver and blue for a split second. Then his eyes closed as he took another sip, a pleased smile gracing his usually expressionless face. They finished in silence, and worked their way upstairs in the same calm, companionable state. She stopped at her door, risking a glance at him. Already halfway into his own room, he turned back to meet her gaze.

The next morning found her in a mood brighter than she had in ages. She had breakfast with her brother and his band and joined her mother for a cup of tea midmorning. It was then that he showed up, blond hair dripping from a shower. She had never seen him so relaxed, so purposely unkempt, and that made her bite her lip and take a second look. He seemed soothed, his posture almost relaxed. She found none of the usual ghosts that turned his gaze murky when their eyes met. Then he did something she had never expected. He smiled right at her. It wasn't the relaxed, pleased smile of the night before. This was the shy, nervous grin of a shared secret, of an invitation. Despite herself, she found that the returning smile came naturally to her.

They met every night for the better part of a fortnight before anything else changed. Every night had been the same, just a silent study of each other's company that spoke volumes more than words ever could. One night, she found him pacing as he waited. She was in an odd mood, her temper barely restrained from a violent confrontation with her roommate.

'You shouldn't defend me.' He said softly as she started her brew. 'Especially not to her.' She didn't turn around. 'Are you always like this?'

'Like what?' she asked, curiosity getting the better of her, risking a glance at him over her shoulder.

'Calm a moment, raging the next. It's like watching the eye of a storm, wondering how long before the next blast.'

'Only when I'm provoked.' She said, handing him the mug. His fingers closed around hers briefly, setting off sparks in both of them. They talked well into the night, making their way back up the stairs slowly. She sighed softly, resting her forehead against the wooden door.

'Little One?' he said softly. She turned to look at him, a small smile at the nickname. He held the door of his room open, his head tilted to indicate she should follow him.

'I…' he walked over to her, gently setting his hands on her shoulders.

'I just want to be there like you were that first night.' He whispered.

'Okay' she whispered back. He tucked her into one side of the big four-poster, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

'Goodnight,' he said, his tone sweeter than she had ever heard it. Then the lights went out and all her worries with it.


End file.
